


Shadow of the Season

by AlElizabeth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4531485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlElizabeth/pseuds/AlElizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While the Winchesters are in between hunts Sam falls ill, but instead of recovering, he only gets worse. Unable to help and terrified for his brother, Dean takes Sam to Bobby's and they find out that his mysterious illness may be connected to something supernatural.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Sam stared at his brother as he shoveled French fries into his mouth. Grimacing, Sam averted his eyes and stared at his Garden Salad.

Dean munched away happily, ignoring his brother.

The waitress approached with a pot of coffee, "Can I get you guys anything else?"

She tilted her hips and batted her eyelashes at Dean. She leaned forward as she refilled their coffee mugs so that her ample cleavage was revealed.

Sam sat back in his seat and rolled his eyes so that only Dean could see. His older brother just grinned at him.

"Do you have pie?" Dean asked the waitress and her plump, red lips turned up in a smile.

W

Sam sighed when Dean smirked and slipped a folded piece of paper into his jacket pocket when the pretty young waitress brought them their bill.

"What?" Dean asked as Sam slid out of the booth and made as if to leave him sitting in the diner.

Dean caught up to his brother, chuckling.

Sam's hip hit a chair on the way out and it clattered to the floor.

"Easy there, Sasquatch," Dean muttered to his brother and stared down anyone who dared gape at them.

Embarrassed, Sam righted the chair and picked up his pace.

As they exited the diner, Dean looked at his brother quizzically.

"You okay?" He asked. Sure, Sam was tall and lanky but he normally wasn't clumsy.

Sam nodded but didn't speak. He didn't tell Dean he felt like he'd been riding the Tilt-A-Whirl for the past hour.

The drive back to the motel was a short one and Sam was glad when it ended. The motel was a cheap little place called 'Dixie's' on the edge of town.

Once inside, Sam sat down on his bed with his laptop.

Dean raised an eyebrow at his younger brother, "You're a work-a-holic, ain't ya?"

Sam scowled at his brother, "Someone has to be."

Dean gave Sam a cocky smile, knowing his brother wasn't really annoyed with him.

Sam turned his gaze to his computer, pulling up a game of Solitaire as well as the browser page.

Dean began humming a Metallica song to himself as he stood in the bathroom and looked into the mirror, running a hand over his clean-shaven face and adding a little more product to his hair.

Sam stared at his older brother as he exited the bathroom and began rummaging through his duffle bag.

"What?" Dean asked, lifting an inquiring eyebrow.

Sam shrugged, "I thought we were chilling out tonight."

Dean grinned, "You can chill out Sammy, but I've got a hot date tonight."

Sam rolled his eyes and closed his laptop, "Not that waitress from the diner?"

"The very same," Dean assured him.

Sam wrinkled his nose, "If you like peroxide blonde and spray-on tan you go ahead."

"I can see if she has a sister," Dean joked, "Who knows, even you might get lucky!"

Sam shook his head. He went to the bathroom and filled up a plastic cup with water, drinking the cool liquid in hopes that it would settle his queasy stomach.

"Suit yourself," Dean shrugged.

Sam gripped the edge of the sink and took a couple of deep breaths. He listened as Dean sat down on one of the creaky beds and turned on the television. Sam hoped he hadn't caught food poisoning- didn't that take a few hours before it started making someone feel like shit?

"You gonna spend all day in there, princess?" Dean teased as he channel surfed.

Sam plastered a smile on his face, "Nope, all yours."

Dean raised his eyebrows and chuckled at his brother.

Sam sat down on his bed and flopped back, legs sticking out over the edge.

"Sammy? You feeling okay?" Dean asked over the noise of the television and Sam held his breath for a long moment before letting it go.

"Yeah," He mumbled, "I'm cool."

Apparently Dean was placated and he spent the next half hour laughing at an old Three Stooges rerun.

Sam dozed, woken every so often by a loud guffaw from his brother, but he didn't really mind. He actually felt a little better knowing that Dean was still with him.

"Don't wait up for me, honey!" Dean called when he finally slipped out the door.

Sam rolled his head to the side and saw that it was almost eight o'clock.

He groaned and turned over into a more comfortable position. He felt exhausted and decided to get some sleep before Dean came back later that night- if he did come back at all that night- and closed his eyes with an exasperated sigh.

SPN

Dean stopped off at the same diner the waitress- Tiffany, yeah that was her name- worked at to pick up breakfast and coffee.

He flirted a little with the girl at the counter as he waited for his order to be filled. The day was really starting to look up. It was warm, but not humid, and the sun shone brightly. The Winchesters were in-between hunts and although Dean never said no to kicking evil ass, it was nice to take a break and relax a bit.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" the counter girl asked as she set the take-out bags on the bar.

"Your number?" Dean gave the young woman a winning smile and she blushed, "And a nice, big slice of pie."

W

Dean wished they could stay in town for a least one more night. The barista had been a real cutie pie. Normally not the kind of girl Dean would be interested in but her sweet, school-girl demeanor had inspired him to try something different.

Maybe he'd convince Sam to hold off on their departure. They weren't in any sort of rush and it was kind of nice not to be motel-hopping every couple of days like they usually did unless they were on a case.

Dean hummed along with some happy, sappy song on the radio as he imagined having a night out with the adorable coffee shop girl. Pulling into the motel parking lot, Dean cut the engine and grabbed the take-out bags.

Unlocking the motel door, Dean plastered a grin on his face and held up the paper bags of food, "Rise and shine, Sammy!"

And promptly dropped the take-out when he saw his brother.


	2. Chapter Two

"Sammy!" Dean cried at the sight of his baby brother.

His younger brother was lying twisted on the floor beside his bed and for a moment Dean thought he was dead.

Dean lurched across the room and fell to his knees in front of his unmoving brother.

"Sammy, oh God," Dean reached out and brushed his sibling's bangs away from his eyes.

Dean's heart leaped into his throat when he saw that Sam's chest was rising and falling with breath.

Reaching forward, Dean heaved Sam's upper body so that his little brother's back was against his chest.

"Sammy," Dean whispered, his lips at Sam's ear, "Hey, wake up Sammy. C'mon, don't do this to me."

Sam began to stir weakly in Dean's arms and his older brother thanked their rarely-lucky stars.

"Sam?" Dean whispered at his brother, louder than before, "Can you hear me?"

"D'n?" Sam groaned and tried to turn his head to look at his brother.

"You're okay," Dean told him and raised one hand to feel Sam's brow.

Sam's skin was hot and clammy, like he had a fever, but that didn't make sense to Dean because he was sure his brother had been fine the day before.

"What-?" Sam began but Dean shushed him, hoisting his sibling up under the armpits and depositing him on the bed.

Sam struggled weakly to sit up but Dean stopped his efforts with a gentle hand on his chest, "Just stay there for a minute. I'll be right back."

Dean hurried into the motel's bathroom and grabbed a washcloth from the pile beside the sink. Turning on the water, Dean waited for a moment before it was as cold as it could possibly be before soaking the cloth and wringing it out.

Back in the main room, Sam was staring up at the ceiling confusedly, a small frown on his face.

The younger man started when Dean's face appeared in his line of vision and he gasped when his brother placed the cool washcloth on his brow.

"Leave that there a minute, Sammy," Dean instructed and picked up his brother's wrist to check his pulse.

Dean's frown grew- his brother's pulse was rapid and shallow- something was very wrong with Sam.

Thinking quickly, Dean did a mental tally of all the meds they had stuffed in their First Aid Kit and knew there wasn't a lot. Sam and Dean mostly kept Band-Aids, gauze bandages, Polysporin, needles and thread, and a couple of half-empty bottles of Aspirin and Tylenol handy in case one or both of them needed a patch-up job after a hunt.

Leaving his brother's side, Dean went over to where his duffle bag sat at the foot of his bed. He dug around for a moment until he pulled out the red and white plastic box and opened its clasps.

Dean grabbed the bottle of Tylenol and shook three gel capsules into his palm. He hoped they'd be able to bring his brother's fever down until they could get something better. He grabbed one of the cheap plastic complimentary cups from the bureau across from the beds and filled it with water from the bathroom sink before returning to his brother.

"Okay, Sammy," Dean said, helping Sam sit up, "These will make you feel better."

Sam looked blearily at his brother, as though trying to understand what Dean was saying.

Dean realized that Sam was too sick to figure out what he wanted so he pinched one of the pills between his thumb and forefinger and brought it up to his brother's mouth. Sam's glazed gaze met Dean's when the capsule touched his lips

Still looking confused, Sam opened his mouth a tiny bit and Dean managed to get the first pill in. Carefully, Dean raised the cup of water and helped his brother take a sip, making sure Sam swallowed down the medicine.

Sam's brother administered the next two pills the same way and let him drink down the rest of the water in the cup, hoping that it would help.

Once Dean was sure Sam was in no danger of choking, he settled Sam so that he lay down on the bed once more. Dean peeled back the washcloth and went to the bathroom to wet it again.

What's wrong with you Sammy? Dean thought as he laid the cloth on his brother's sweaty forehead once more. He thought that Sam might have gotten food poisoning but that didn't really make much sense; Sam had ordered a salad the day before at the diner- not a likely carrier of Salmonella- and the symptoms didn't really match up anyway.

Dean looked at his brother in sympathy as Sam groaned, the fever making him uncomfortable.

"Don't worry Sammy," Dean hushed him; "The pills should work their magic in a little while."

Dean stood and walked toward the door, stooped down and gathered up the take-out bags he had dropped and then promptly forgotten in his haste to get to his brother.

Everything had been placed in Styrofoam containers so aside from being a little jumbled around, the food was still edible.

Dean sat down on his bed and pulled his breakfast out- a breakfast sandwich made of French toast with bacon, cheese, a fried egg and ketchup- and took a large bite. Normally Dean would have closed his eyes in pleasure, maybe even made exaggerated chewing noises just to annoy his brother but now Dean barely tasted the food. He kept his gaze locked on his brother as he wolfed down the lukewarm sandwich.

All thoughts of spending some quality time with the little barista from the diner flew from Dean's mind as he watched his brother fidget and whimper on the bed.

Once Sam was calm enough Dean would go out and get some much needed supplies that would help with the flu- that was the only thing that Dean could imagine Sam had picked up- and prepare for a difficult few days of nursing his younger brother back to health.


	3. Chapter Three

Dean practically ran down the aisles of the little convenience store as he grabbed bottles of Ginger Ale and cough syrup, boxes of Kleenex and antihistamines. He didn't like leaving Sam alone for too long when he was sick and dropped his armload of purchases onto the counter, startling the middle-aged man at the register.

"Sick kid at home?" The guy asked as he rang through a box of chicken noodle soup.

Dean didn't even smirk. Sam was sick and that was no laughing matter.

"Total comes to twenty dollars and seventy-five cents," Dean, distracted with worry over Sam, fished thirty bucks from his wallet and handed it over.

"Keep the change," Dean muttered as the cashier peered at him quizzically.

Dean disregarded the posted speed limits as he raced back to the motel. The only thing on his mind was the sight of his baby brother lying shivering on the bed, feverish and whimpering in pain.

Arms full of groceries, Dean nearly kicked the motel room door open in his haste. Sam was exactly as his older brother had left him, lying underneath a mountain of blankets and looking much too pale.

Dean dumped the groceries onto the table in the tiny kitchenette and was immediately at his brother's side, checking his temperature.

Sam's eyes opened to slits when he felt a cool hand on his brow. Pulling his dry lips apart, he tried to speak but was shushed by his sibling.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean crooned, "I'm here now."

Dean frowned, his brother still felt far too hot and he immediately worried about dehydration.

Leaving his brother's side for a moment, Dean rummaged in the grocery bag until he found the box of Ginger Ale. Tearing open the cardboard, Dean grabbed a can and popped open the tab.

Helping his sibling to sit up against the bed's headboard, Dean brought the can of soda to his brother's parched lips.

Sam leaned forward slightly; his eyes open halfway and glazed, and sipped at the beverage his brother carefully held for him.

Sam choked on the fizzy liquid, some of it running down his chin and he groaned with discomfort.

"Sorry, Sammy," Dean set the can of soda aside and wiped his brother's face with his blanket.

Dean knew he needed to bring Sam's fever down but he wasn't sure how his brother was going to be able to swallow the medicine if he couldn't keep down some soda.

Thinking quickly, he went into the bathroom and grabbed a hand towel and soaked it under the tap with cold water.

Wringing out as much of the excess liquid as he could, Dean returned to his brother and laid the cloth over Sam's head, dampening his hair and hopefully cooling him down.

Dean almost smiled when Sam sighed, closing his eyes and seemed to relax for the first time since Dean had found him that morning.

"Why don't you lie down for a bit?" Dean suggested and assisted his brother in settling down on his back on the bed.

Dean went to the table and begun unpacking the rest of the things he had bought. He set a box of Kleenex on the nightstand beside the Ginger Ale and put the rest of the supplies in the cupboard of the room's small kitchenette.

Deciding all he could do was keep an eye on his brother's temperature- keep the towel cool- and periodically have him drink some of the soda, Dean sat down on his own bed and turned on the television.

W

Two hours later Sam's fever was still high and Dean was beginning to grow concerned. Sam had managed a few sips of the Ginger Ale- now flat- but all attempts to swallow some gel capsules of cold and flu medicine had been in vain.

Wringing the towel out for the nth time, Dean laid it gently on his brother's brow.

When Sam got sick he really got sick and would be miserable for four or five days before bouncing back like nothing had happened. But this was different, Dean could sense it. This illness had taken hold of Sam so fast, too fast for Dean's liking and the fever seemed to have dug in deep.

A groan from Sam's bed turned Dean's attention to his sibling. Sam had rolled over onto his side and was trying to sit up.

Immediately, Dean was beside his brother, helping him. Once Sam was sitting he ducked his head down so that it was nearly between his knees.

Dean rubbed his brother's back comfortingly and murmured soothing words.

"You'll feel better soon, Sammy," Dean told his brother, hoping that what he said was the truth.

Dean felt bad that his brother was so sick, especially when he'd spent the night before in the company of some waitress and hadn't thought anything of leaving Sam alone, and wished he'd just decided to hang out like his younger sibling had suggested.

Now Dean planned to make it up to his brother. Dean wouldn't leave Sam alone again except if it was an emergency. After the trip to the convenience store, Dean was sure he had enough medicine and soup and tissues to last at least a week. Since Sam had been little, Dean had always taken care of his brother whenever he wasn't feeling well, and he had become quite good at it, knowing exactly what Sam needed even before the kid himself knew, sometimes.

Dean helped his brother straighten up and placed a hand against his hot, clammy brow.

"What some more Ginger Ale, Sammy?" Dean asked and Sam shook his head, his eyes slipping closed.

Dean sighed and helped his brother lay down again- Sam falling asleep before his head hit the pillow- and stood up, feeling helpless. Dean rubbed a hand over his face and glanced at the wall clock.

Dean knew the dangers of a high fever- especially one that lasted for hours- and wondered if he should take his brother to a hospital.

No, Dean didn't want to do that. Sam hated hospitals and they wouldn't be able to stay for an extended period of time anyway lest they were found out for insurance fraud.

Heaving a sigh, Dean made a deal with himself that if Sam's fever wasn't lower by the same time the next day, he'd take him to the nearest hospital.


	4. Chapter Four

Dean sat at the kitchenette's tiny table, wolfing down his Chinese noodles- delivered to the room because there was no way he was leaving his brother alone again- while keeping an eye on Sam. His younger brother's fever had gone down a few degrees- thank God- but not enough to make Dean completely relaxed just yet. Sam was still shivering under three motel blankets- one of which came from Dean's bed- with nothing in his stomach but a few mouthfuls worth of Ginger Ale.

Tossing the empty Styrofoam container into the trashcan, Dean went to his brother's side, deciding that he should try and get Sam to at least drink some more soda.

"Hey Sammy," Dean spoke quietly and laid a hand on his brother's brow, frowning a little at the heat still pouring off the younger man in waves.

Sam stirred at the sound of his brother's voice and opened his eyes halfway.

"D'n?" Sam breathed and Dean squeezed his brother's hand.

"I'm right here, Sammy," he smiled when Sam's grip tightened on his fingers.

"Hmmm," Sam hummed and began to close his eyes again.

"Hold that thought Sam," Dean said quickly before his sibling could slip into unconsciousness again, "Feeling up to having some Ginger Ale?"

Sam shook his head wearily, sliding down the headboard but Dean wasn't going to take no for an answer. He wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders and brought the can of soda to Sam's dry lips.

"Just drink a little bit," Dean murmured and watched attentively as his brother took a sip of the Ginger Ale.

Dean sighed and brushed some hair back from his brother's forehead, checking Sam's temperature as he did so.

"D-D'n?" Sam stammered, teeth chattering, "…Mmmm c-cold."

Dean frowned, "I know you are, Sammy."

He looked around the small motel room, trying to see if there were any more extra blankets. There were none.

Maybe he'd call the front desk and ask for some more, Dean decided, knowing that it didn't really matter how many blankets he piled on top of his brother, the fever would still give him the chills.

Dean managed to get Sam to gulp down another mouthful of Ginger Ale before he stood and moved to the room's heating and cooling unit. Although it was the middle of summer and the room was already fairly warm, Dean cranked the heat all the way up and listened for a moment as the A/C chugged away as it pumped hot air into the room.

Sam watched his brother blearily until Dean helped him lay back down and pulled the blankets up to his chin.

Dean smiled at his brother and wished he could do something more to help ease Sam's discomfort.

Rubbing his face with both hands, the eldest Winchester peered around the shabby motel room.

Dean wasn't sure what to do. He had to get his brother's fever down somehow and the last thing he wanted to do was take Sam to a hospital.

Suddenly Dean remembered something he'd seen on an episode of Dr. Sexy- some cute co-ed had come in with a raging fever that needed to be broken immediately and the show's namesake had dramatically deposited the ailing girl into one of the hospital's industrial sized bathtubs full of ice water- that might just work for his brother. Although not the best TV show to copy medical practices from, Dean was sure that it had some credibility.

Risking leaving Sam alone, Dean grabbed the rather small ice bucket from their motel room and ran down to the outside alcove where the ice machine was.

Dean slammed his fist onto the button and the dispenser growled unhappily as it coughed out enough ice to fill his bucket. Looking down at the measly amount of ice, Dean realized it would take him at least a half-dozen trips to fill the motel bathtub.

Screw this, Dean thought and suddenly his eyes lit upon a large blue bucket sitting beside one of the vending machines that shared the alcove.

Grabbing the pail, Dean dumped his bucket of ice into it and held it up with one hand as he hammered on the button to coax more ice from the temperamental machine.

Sprinting back to the motel room, Dean dumped the bucket of ice into the bathtub, jammed the stopper into the drain and turned the tap to its coldest setting.

As chilly water gurgled into the tub, the ice cubes began to float around and Dean was reminded of a party he'd been to in high school where some kid had used his bathtub as a giant bowl for some God-awful concoction of booze he called 'punch'. Dean remembered seeing some of the partygoers using ladles (no doubt from the kitchen) to scoop the alcohol into plastic cups and was glad he was sticking to beer that night.

"Deee'n," Sam's thin, weak voice brought his brother back to the present and Dean quickly turned the water off and went to his sibling's side.

"You're not going to like this part very much, Sammy," Dean told his brother as he began pulling Sam's socks off, "But it will help. I promise."

Sam lifted his head and peered blearily at his brother as Dean unbuttoned his jeans and began to tugging them off.

"Ain't got nothing I haven't seen before," Dean continued up a steady stream of chatter as he dumped his brother's pants into a pile at the end of the bed and began helping him sit up so he could remove his shirt.

"D'n… c'cold," Sam whispered and his brother nodded as he carefully maneuvered Sam's arms from the sleeves of his shirt.

"How can you be cold, little bro? It's a freakin' sauna in here!" Dean dropped Sam's plaid button-up shirt off the side of the bed and began to work on getting his t-shirt off.

Once Sam was clad only in his boxers, Dean pulled him into a standing position. The younger man swayed dangerously on his feet so Dean slid a supporting arm under his shoulders and began to shuffle toward the open bathroom doorway.

"You're almost there Sammy," Dean encouraged his brother as they moved at a snail's pace, "Keep going."

Sam stopped as soon as his feet touched the yellowed linoleum floor of the bathroom.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean shuffled forward, giving his sibling no choice but to follow.

Dean imagined that Sam's expression turned dubious once he saw the tub full of water and ice. Dean wasn't going to let his brother stop now though. With some pulling and cajoling, Dean finally got his brother to the side of the bathtub.

The older Winchester held his brother's elbows securely as Sam lifted one foot and set it in the bathtub.

Sam's eyes widened in shock and he immediately lifted his foot out of the water again. He wrapped his long-fingered hands around his brother's forearms and tried to use the leverage to get his leg over the rim of the tub.

"I don't think so, Sam," Dean said, "You've gotta sit down."

"C-cold… De- D'n," Sam whimpered and his eyes grew round and wet.

"Not going to work on me this time," Dean stared at the tiled wall over his brother's head to avoid looking into his 'puppy-eyes'.

"Pl-ple-please," Sam begged and although Dean's heart crawled up into his throat he shook his head.

"Put your foot back down," Dean commanded in his most authoritative voice and Sam slowly complied.

"Okay, now lift your other foot," Dean instructed and his brother's grip on his arms tightened until he winced, "I won't let you fall."

Sam began shivering and goosebumps appeared on his exposed skin as he stood rigid in the bathtub, reluctant to move any further.

"Sammy, c'mon, this will make you feel better," Dean practically begged his younger brother, "I promise."

Dean wasn't sure how much longer his brother would be able to stay on his own two feet and he really didn't want Sam to collapse; he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep him from falling.

Slowly Sam began to sit down- Dean keeping a tight grip on his elbows to prevent him from going down too fast- with a sad, defeated look on his pale face.

Dean planted his butt on the closed toilet lid as Sam sat facing the tub's faucet. The younger man shook visibly and Dean frowned when his brother practically glared at him through red-rimmed eyes.

Dean did feel like a bit of a dick but if this brought down Sam's fever, his brother's disapproving looks would be worth it.

Dean kept an eye on the clock- not sure exactly how long his brother would need to be in the ice bath- as he kept track of the time and kept up a continual stream of talk to try and distract his little brother as much as possible.


	5. Chapter Five

Sam didn't look any better, in Dean's opinion. He sat hunched over on his bed, wearing an old blue t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. His damp hair hung in his eyes and his arms were wrapped around his middle as he shivered. He looked miserable.

Dean was relieved, however, that when he checked Sam's temperature, it was a few degrees lower than it had been earlier. Dean would have liked to see the ice bath break the fever altogether but he would take what he could get.

Taking advantage of having Sam fully awake and focused, Dean gave his brother some of the cold and flu medicine he'd bought and even made his brother some soup.

"You know you'll be sick if you take those meds on an empty stomach," Dean told his brother when Sam mumbled that he wasn't hungry.

Sam couldn't argue with that logic and obediently ate half the chicken noodle soup before his eyes started to droop.

"Nap time already?" Dean joked with his brother as he helped Sam lay down in bed and covered him with the duvet and extra blankets.

Soon Sam was fast asleep and Dean was left with nothing to do but watch mindless television until he woke up again.

The older Winchester jumped, startled, when his cell phone vibrated in his jeans' pocket.

Pulling his phone out and checking the caller ID, Dean was relieved to see that it was Bobby.

"Hey," he greeted the older hunter.

"You boys up to taking another case? There's been a rash of unusual suicides down in Phoenix that could-" Bobby informed Dean and the younger man frowned, interrupting his friend before he could finish.

"We're not that far from Arizona but Sam's picked up some sort of flu bug," Dean explained, "Is there anyone else you can call?"

"I suppose so," Bobby grumbled, "How long has Sam been sick?'

Dean scratched the back of his head, "Only a couple of days but he has one mean fever, he's barely able to get out of bed."

"You're not holed-up in some shit-stain of a motel are you?" Bobby asked so crudely that even Dean cringed.

"Ah, no, of course not," Dean answered, not really lying- the place wasn't that bad.

"Listen, I'll call someone else to take the case in Arizona if you come up to my place," Bobby bargained; he already planned to call another hunter now that he'd learned that Sam was ill.

Dean sighed, "It's just the flu, Bobby, not the bubonic plague."

The older man didn't laugh.

"Sam's just gonna be miserable and clingy for the next few days until this runs its course," Dean continued.

He appreciated the veteran hunter's concern but really, they didn't need to run to Bobby every time they had a booboo.

"At least you can stay at my place for free," Bobby enticed and Dean grimaced, thinking about the extra cash he'd have to dish out to stay in their room while Sam was sick.

"All right, old man, you win," Dean acquiesced.

"Didn't put up much of a fight," Bobby snickered.

"Yeah, yeah," the younger man grumbled good-naturedly, "just have a couple of beers on ice for when we arrive."

"Just take care of your brother," Bobby rumbled.

"Don't I always?" Dean replied, "We should be a few hours, I'll call when we're close."

"Look forward to it," Bobby told Dean and hung up the phone.

Dean slipped his cell back into its pocket and peered carefully at his unconscious sibling. Sam would be okay for the ten or so minutes it would take for him to walk down to the office and check out.

Quietly making his way to the door and slipping outside, Dean sighed tiredly. He wiped a hand over his face and trotted down the sidewalk toward the Office. Although the day was warm, Dean shivered and hoped he wasn't coming down with whatever Sam had managed to catch. Reaching the small, humid office, Dean waited in line behind a guest checking in, a middle-aged man who was wearing khaki shorts that showed off legs as white as a fish belly and black socks up to the middle of his calves; a blue and green Hawaiian style shirt and sunglasses completed the ensemble. Dean tried his hardest not to smirk as the man walked past him.

"Checking out?" the woman at the counter asked. Dean thought she most resembled a walrus. Large and shapeless, the woman had beady eyes and steel grey hair. A lit cigarette dangled out from a mouth smeared in bright pink lipstick.

"Yeah," Dean muttered and waited impatiently for the transaction to be completed.

The woman took a drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke in Dean's face, "Have a good day."

Scrunching his nose against the acrid smoke, Dean nodded, "You too."

Returning to the room quickly, Dean smiled when he opened the door and saw that Sam was exactly as he'd left him.

Packing their belongings back into their duffel bags, Dean shot glances at his brother, hoping that Sam would wake up. It was going to one hell of a feat to try and get his brother's unconscious 6'4" frame into the Impala if Sam refused to leave Dream Land.

Once the luggage was stowed away safely in the Impala's trunk Dean returned to the room and his present problem. Sam looked so peaceful asleep on the questionable bed sheets that Dean almost didn't have the heart to wake him.

Uh huh, like I'm going to try lugging that Sasquatch out to the car, Dean thought and gave his brother's shoulder a gentle shake.

"Sammy? Hey, think you can wake up for me?"

Sam's green eyes opened to slits and Dean could see how glassy they already were. He gave his brother's shoulder a more vigorous shake and Sam groaned weakly.

"C'mon Sammy," Dean cajoled, "Up and at 'em!"

Sam brushed Dean's hand off his shoulder but sat up, slumping forward slightly.

Dean smiled when his sibling looked up at him expectantly.

"You only have to walk as far as the Impala, okay?"

Sam's head dipped down in what Dean took to be a nod, "Kay."

Dean helped his brother stand, Sam swaying dangerously for a moment before steadying.

"You okay?" Dean asked, not wanting his brother to face-plant on the asphalt

"Mmmmhmmm," Sam confirmed and Dean led him out of the room, closing the door behind himself.

It didn't take long for Dean to get Sam settled into the front passenger's seat; his brother sleeping soundly even before he put the key in the ignition.

Turning the radio on quietly, Dean pulled out of the parking lot, smiling when Led Zeppelin's 'Dazed and Confused' came on.

W

Dean was singing along to 'Honky Tonk Woman' when Sam began to shake.

It wasn't just little shivers either. It was more like seizures as far as Dean could tell. Startled and terrified, Dean quickly pulled onto the side of the road, ignoring the blaring of horns as irate drivers passed the Impala.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean cried his brother's name fearfully as his muscles continue to spasm.

"Shit," Dean swore and grabbed at Sam's shoulder, "C'mon man, don't do this!"

Sam took no heed of his older brother and slumped, the seatbelt across his chest preventing him from falling forward any further, his limbs twitching.

"Sam?" Dean pushed his brother back up and peered worriedly into his face. Sam's eyes were closed and his mouth was slack, slightly open.

What the fuck just happened? Dean wondered. A regular flu bug doesn't make someone have grand mal seizures!

Dean's confusion turned to alarm when he noticed how pale his brother's face was and how blue his lips were.

"Oh no," Dean gasped as though he suddenly couldn't breathe either, "No, no, c'mon Sammy. Wake up!"

Unbuckling his brother, Dean grabbed hold of Sam's shirt and tugged him across the bench seat and onto the gravel shoulder of the road.

Once his brother was on the ground, Dean tried to rouse Sam again, shaking his shoulder.

"C'mon Sammy, c'mon!" Dean begged, his eyes watching his brother's face frantically as Sam's skin began to slowly turn grey.

"Shit," Dean muttered and wiped a hand over his eyes before tipping his sibling's head back.

Dean looked up, startled, when he heard a car door slam and feet crunching over hard-packed gravel towards him. An older man was looked down at him with a shocked expression.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked. Behind him, Dean spied a red minivan and a white-haired woman- the man's wife- watching grimly from the passenger's seat.

"Call an ambulance," Dean instructed and turned to his brother. Although taking Sam to a hospital had been the last thing he'd wanted to do; now it looked like there wasn't much of a choice.

Ignoring the fact that his brother might have the flu, Dean leaned down, pinched Sam's nose closed and quickly breathed into his mouth. After watching his brother's still lungs rise, Dean pressed down on his brother's chest in quick succession before repeating the process.

Dean was sweating and his arms were aching by the time he heard the wail of sirens. Sam didn't look any better and his brother began to panic.

"Damn it, Sammy," Dean cursed and sat back on his heels. The older couple was still there; the man hovering uselessly while his wife remained in the van.

Dean grabbed his brother's pale face in his hands, "Sammy! Wake up! Please!"


	6. Chapter Six

Bobby Singer ran into the hospital's Emergency entrance, nearly colliding with a patient hobbling slowly outside as he did so.

The grizzled hunter scanned the family members sitting worriedly in the waiting room before spying Dean in the far corner, his face a mask of fear and guilt.

"Dean!" Bobby called breathlessly and the younger man stood to meet him.

"Have you heard anything yet?" Bobby asked and sat down in a green plastic chair beside the anxious brother.

Dean shook his head sadly.

"It just happened so quickly, Bobby," he muttered, "He was fine… well, not fine but you know… and then he started having a fit and he wasn't breathing and… and…"

Dean looked up at his friend with red-rimmed eyes and Bobby quietly slipped an arm around the young man's shoulders.

As soon as Bobby had finished hearing Dean's terrified message on his answering machine he had driven to the hospital the younger hunter had indicated with all-speed.

Whatever bug Sam had managed to pick up, it was a bad one.

Bobby wasn't all that surprised that the youngest Winchester had ended up in the hospital but that didn't mean he wasn't trouble by the unexpected turn of events. How did a flu end in an ambulance ride to Emergency?

"You sure it's a bug? You didn't piss off any witches or anything recently?" he asked Dean and the younger hunter shook his head.

"I couldn't get his fever to go down," he told Bobby, "I tried really hard but it never broke… He barely ate anything…"

The veteran hunter nodded. Dean had not said as much on the phone, only telling Bobby that Sam had had some kind of seizure and was en route to the nearest hospital but the grizzled hunter knew the Winchesters well enough to know how things were when the youngest was ill.

W

Bobby watched as Dean paced the floor in front of him. Three hours had passed since the grizzled hunter had arrived at the hospital and no doctor had made an appearance.

Dean was growing more and more anxious and Bobby knew it was only a matter of time before he rushed through the swinging doors labeled 'Staff Only' and tried to intimidate a doctor into giving him an update on Sam.

"You want some coffee from the cafeteria?" the older hunter suggested, knowing that caffeine probably wouldn't be good for Dean while he was almost frantic with worry but thought 'to hell with it' the kid looked like he could use a drink and since booze weren't allow in the hospital coffee would have to do.

But Dean shook his head. He raised his hands and rubbed his face.

"When was the last time you slept?" Bobby asked concernedly.

Dean shrugged, "Couple of days ago."

Bobby sighed and looked toward the swinging doors, hoping that a doctor would see them soon.

SPN

Dr. Munroe sighed tiredly as she walked down the mint-green hallway towards the Emergency waiting room.

Her newest patient, Samuel Winchester, was not doing well and she always hated to be the bearer of bad news.

Stepping into the waiting room, Dr. Munroe took in the half-dozen anxious families and called out, "Family of Samuel Winchester?"

A burly man wearing a stained tan vest and baseball cap stood and a young man- probably in his late twenties to early thirties- looked up from where he seemed to be pacing the small waiting area.

Dr. Munroe held out her hand to shake theirs as they approached.

"Is Sammy going to be okay?" the young man asked; his hazel eyes filled with worry.

"We don't know that yet," Dr. Munroe said vaguely, "Right now we're just trying to get his fever down."

The older man- who identified himself as Bobby Singer, the boys' uncle- nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, seeming to realize the gravity of the situation.

The younger man- Dean, Sam's older brother- didn't look happy already and Dr. Munroe just knew he was going to be trouble.

"How can you not know?" he asked angrily, "You're a doctor!"

"We won't know anything until Samuel wakes up," Dr. Munroe explained.

If he wakes up, she thought to herself.

Dean seemed to know what the doctor was thinking and his face paled, "Can we… we can see him, right?"

Dr. Munroe frowned, "Your brother's been moved to the ICU for testing. You told the paramedics that you don't know how he became ill?"

Dean nodded, "He was fine just a few days ago. Then out of nowhere he's got this raging fever that won't break."

"I'm going to have to ask you some more questions to rule out some causes for the fever," Dr. Munroe told the young man, "If you'll follow me?"

Dean went first, walking right behind the doctor and she could almost feel his eyes burning twin holes into the back of her white coat.

Dr. Munroe stepped into an empty exam room and closed the door.

"When can I see Sam?" Dean asked again as soon as the doctor turned to face him and his uncle.

"We need to determine that the fever is not the cause of anything infectious," Dr. Munroe explained, "Until then, only the nurses and I will be allowed into your brother's room. I'm sorry but it is for the safety of everyone."

"But if Sam's got some infection," Dean argued, his hazel eyes darkening, "Couldn't I be sick too? I've been taking care of him the past two days and I gave him mouth-to-mouth when he stopped breathing after that seizure!"

Dr. Munroe opened her mouth to speak but Bobby Singer beat her to it.

"Dean," the burly man growled warningly and although the younger man glared at the doctor, he said no more.

"I understand that you might not know the answer to all these questions but do your best," Dr. Munroe said in a kindly tone, "The more we know about Samuel, the closer we'll come to finding out what caused the fever and be able to help him."

"Sam," Dean almost growled.

Dr. Munroe's brow furrowed, "Pardon me?"

"It's Sam," Dean explained irritably, "Not Samuel."

"Sam," the doctor corrected herself, "Alright, when did the fever start?"

Dean sighed in exasperation, "Two days ago."

The doctor wrote that down on the clipboard she had brought with her, "Daytime or night?"

"Uh… I'm not sure… I found him in the morning after I… picked up breakfast," Dean answered, slightly uncomfortable and the doctor caught Bobby glance at the young man from the corner of his eye.

"I guess he got really sick in the middle of the night," Dean finished, a slightly ashamed look on his face.

And where were you? Dr. Munroe thought but kept the rude question to herself.

"Besides the seizure, what other symptoms occurred?" she continued.

"He could barely keep his eyes open, like all he wanted to do was sleep," Dean began, looking haggard as he no doubt went through the events of the past two days in his head to recall every detail of his brother's illness, "Said he was really cold… uh… hardly at anything… I tried to get him to drink some Ginger Ale but he couldn't… he was really weak too…"

"Any vomiting? Coughing? Sneezing?" Dr. Munroe asked and Dean shook his head.

"Are all of Sam's vaccinations up to date?" she asked and after a pause, Dean affirmed that they were.

The questioning continued. Dr. Munroe found out that the brothers were on a road trip across the States- but had not been to any international locations- and that, as far as Dean knew, no one around them had been sick. Dean didn't bat an eyelash when the doctor asked if his brother had ever taken (or was currently taking) illicit drugs or if he was on any medications. Dean almost laughed when he was asked if Sam had been around any animals recently but quickly sobered up after Bobby glared at him and answerer in the negative. Sam had had no recent surgeries or other illnesses, he had no relevant allergies. When Dr. Munroe asked about Sam's sexual history Dean commented that even priests had more sex than his brother, than an odd expression crossed his face and he confirmed that as far as he knew, Sam had had no sexual relations with anyone for a while.

Dr. Munroe deflated somewhat. There had been nothing in Dean's answers that pointed to what was causing Sam's fever.

"As soon as Sam wakes up I would like to perform some tests but I feel it's necessary to do some tests right away," Dr. Munroe told the two men and Bobby nodded, "Whatever you need to do, Doc."

"Thank you," she said, "I'm going to have a blood test run and hopefully that will give us some answers."

"Doctor," Dean said cautiously, "Sam's fever was pretty high… and well… he's going to be okay when he wakes up, right? I mean… he'll uh…"

Dr. Munroe felt her heart go out to the young man. A high fever that ran for long periods of time could cause serious damage, serious brain damage if left unchecked. Sam's fever had been 105.8 Fahrenheit

"We won't know until he wakes up," she confessed, hoping that the young man would be alright but knowing that there was a very high chance that something would be wrong.

Dean nodded resignedly.

"If you'll excuse me," Dr. Munroe said, "I'd like to get that blood test sent to the lab as soon as possible."

"Yeah," Dean muttered somewhat despondently, worried about his brother.

The doctor took her leave and walked down to the ICU, intent on finding out the cause of her young patient's illness.

SPN

Dean and Bobby returned to the waiting room. There was nothing more they could do until Sam woke up.

Dean hoped that his brother would be alright upon waking but the doctor hadn't sounded all too confident.

Dean was terrified that the fever would fry his brother's brain and Sam wouldn't remember how to walk or talk, wouldn't remember how to feed himself, would forget who he was…

The eldest Winchester put his head in his hands, leaning forward in the uncomfortable plastic chair. He felt Bobby's hand on his back, seeming to know exactly what he was thinking.

"We'll get through it, son," Bobby murmured, "We always do."

Dean nodded but he didn't feel very positive. He couldn't help feeling guilty. He should have stayed with his brother when Sam had asked him to. He shouldn't have gone out for a one-night stand with some ditzy waitress. He should have taken Sam to the hospital sooner.

Now, because of his negligence, Sam could be serious hurt. Because Dean hadn't been thinking, Sam could be the one to pay the price.


	7. Chapter Seven

Sam fought against the dark entity. He didn't know where it came from but he knew what it wanted: Him.

The dark entity had been so subtle, so cunning that by the time Sam realized it was there, it had sunk its hooks in. All he could do was retreat, cower in a far corner of his mind, away from the groping black tentacles.

It wasn't a demon. Sam was almost sure of it. He recalled the time he had been possessed by Meg- the blanks in his memory, the vividness of watching the demon move him around as though he were a marionette- and knew that the entity was not demonic, although it was evil.

Trapped, Sam could feel the entity draining him. It was not concerned with using his body like a puppet, no, it wanted more than that. It was growing stronger as he grew weaker.

Sam did not know how to fight this enemy. It was unlike any monster he had encountered before.

Dean! Sam cried desperately, his call not reaching his still tongue, refusing to pass between his closed lips. Help me!

SPN

Dean squeezed Sam's limp, clammy hand in his own.

Dr. Munroe had run all the tests she could think of but they all returned negative. Samuel's fever seemed to have begun spontaneously. The doctor would have liked to consult her colleagues and perhaps have a specialist come in and look at the young man- and she still could- but for the older brother hovering protectively over his sibling.

Dean Winchester had refused to sit in the waiting room any longer and had demanded to see his brother.

Dr. Munroe could have called security and had the young man removed but she wasn't sure Samuel had much longer and she didn't want to be the one responsible for keeping the brothers apart during such a dire situation.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean murmured to his brother, running his thumb slowly over Sam's knuckles, "You hang in there, you hear? Doc Munroe is going to figure this out, okay."

He couldn't believe this was happening, couldn't believe he had waited to take Sam to the hospital. He had been such an idiot.

Bobby slipped inside the room, coffees in hand and passed one to Dean.

"Thanks," Dean muttered and sat back, still holding Sam's hand in one of his as he drank the hot beverage.

"Heard from the doctor yet?" The gruff hunter asked, sitting down on Sam's other side, gazing sadly at the unconscious young man.

Dean shook his head, "No news is good news though, eh?"

Bobby didn't comment. Dean sighed and set his coffee cup down to wipe a hand down his face.

"How long do you think he's going to sleep?" he asked, seeking an answer from Bobby, who always seemed to have one.

The older man shrugged, "I dunno, Dean. I guess that depends on Sam."

Dean nodded and swallowed. He was terrified of what the fever could be doing to his baby brother. All he wanted was for Sam to open his eyes again but he was also scared of what his brother would be like when he did.

Leaning forward, Dean spoke quietly to his sibling, irregardless of Bobby's presence, "Whatever happens, Sammy, I'm going to be here. I'll look after you, alright? Don't worry. I'm not leaving you."

SPN

Bobby knew something was troubling Dean.

Sure, the young man liked to think he had a grip on his emotions and could hide them but when it came to Sam, that carefully constructed mask slipped and bared the true nature of the big brother for anyone who was willing to get a closer look.

The veteran hunter cleared his throat and Dean looked up from the hamburger he was eating. They were sitting inside the hospital's small cafeteria, picking at their lunch.

"Fess up," Bobby said, "I know something's wrong so you may as well just tell me now."

Dean's eyes pinched, "What do you mean?"

"You have GUILTY written all over your face," Bobby explained, "Now, what's eating you?"

Dean frowned, "Sam's sick. That's reason enough-"

Bobby shook his head, "Don't give me that bullshit. I know there's more to it than that."

"I should have taken Sammy to see a doctor right away," Dean hedged and Bobby sighed.

"Dean, you and your brother have both been through worse than this and have stitched each other up with dental floss before seeing any doctor," Bobby commented, "Don't fool around with me. What's got you looking like you somehow brought this on Sam."

Dean sighed and sat his burger aside.

"I… the night Sam got sick, I wasn't with him," Dean answered, shamefaced.

Bobby frowned, "The night?"

Dean lowered his gaze, "I went out. Left Sam alone."

"Jeez," Bobby muttered.

"He wasn't sick when I left!" Dean exclaimed, trying to defend himself even though he still felt guilty as hell, "He must have gotten bad during the night. He didn't call me."

"Damn it! I should have known!" the older brother berated himself and Bobby's grey eyes swam with unshed tears at the younger man's pain.

"You couldn't have known, Dean," he told Dean but the young man shook his head.

"Sam didn't want me to go," he told Bobby, to the older man's surprise, "We were supposed to hang out, watch crappy cable TV but… I had a date."

Bobby felt the sudden urge to smack Dean upside the head for thinking with his 'downstairs' brain again but he refrained, the eldest Winchester was doing a fine job beating himself up without him.

"I should have stayed with Sammy," Dean muttered and ran both hands through his short-cropped hair.

"You're here now," Bobby told him, "You said yourself you weren't going anywhere."

Dean frowned, Bobby's reassurance not making him feel any better. He felt like a shitty excuse for a brother. Sam would have never done what he had.

Both men looked up at the sound of commotion when a male nurse ran into the cafeteria, calling out for a Dean Winchester.

The older brother stood, his heart hammering painfully in his chest.

Oh no! Sammy! Thoughts of his sibling lying dead in his hospital bed flooded Dean's mind and he found himself almost sprinting towards the young nurse.

"Here! I'm here!"

Dean heard Bobby hurrying along behind him, panting and wheezing as though he was running a marathon.

"Is Sammy okay?" Dean asked the nurse, resisting the urge to grab the man's shoulders and shake him.

"He's awake."


	8. Chapter Eight

Dean bolted ahead of the male nurse, Bobby trotting after him, in his rush to get to Sam's room.

He flung open the door and stopped on the threshold. Sam was awake. He was sitting up, looking at Dr. Munroe as she spoke to him.

The female doctor turned her attention to the doorway and smiled at Dean and Bobby who was peering over the younger man's shoulder.

"Your brother's fever has gone down considerably," the doctor informed them.

Dean stepped into the room, eyes glued to his baby brother. Sam looked okay. He was still pale but other than that he seemed to know where he was and everything. That was good, right?

"How're you feeling, Sammy?"

The young man peered at his brother, "Hey, Dean."

The eldest Winchester sagged with relief. Stepping up to the bed, Dean gave Sam's shoulder a comforting squeeze, "You okay?"

"Tired," Sam admitted. Dean peered into his brother's face. His normally bright green eyes were dark, almost black, and ringed with purple shadows. He must be exhausted.

"I want to take Sam down and do some tests," Dr. Munroe spoke up, "Just to make sure the fever didn't cause any damage."

"Okay," Dean said, "You up for that, Sammy?"

His brother nodded, "If it'll get me out of here faster, I say go for it."

The male nurse who had followed them from the cafeteria entered the room, pushing a wheelchair ahead of him.

Once Sam was sitting in the chair, the nurse and Dr. Munroe left the room, the latter assuring Dean that his brother would be back in a couple of hours.

SPN

Dean! Sam cried out silently as the wheelchair bumped over the door's threshold and the young man lost sight of his brother.

Sam had been so happy to see his brother. Dean would be able to help him! But when Sam had tried to speak, no words had come through. The dark entity had him effectively muzzled. Sam wanted to scream as loud as he could but he was unable to even let out the quietest whimper.

"Do you think I'll be able to go home soon?" The dark entity spoke, using Sam's voice.

The doctor looked down at Sam and the young man tried to tell her something was wrong, even if it was only with his facial expression.

"If all of the tests come back negative and your fever stays down there's no reason why you shouldn't be able to," the woman told him, "Actually, the fact that we are having this conversation right now is a very good sign that you are one very lucky young man."

Sam felt the dark entity move his lips into a smile and he shrank back, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get through to the doctor at least. He would save his strength and try to contact Dean when the doctor took him back to his room.

SPN

Dean sat down on the edge of Sam's vacated hospital bed, relief seeping through his veins.

"Sometimes you Winchesters get lucky," Bobby commented as he sat down on the visitor's chair.

"Yeah," Dean muttered. He couldn't believe how close he'd come to losing his brother- or, if not that, having Sam changed forever- and he raised a shaky hand to cover his eyes.

"Dean? You alright son?" Bobby asked, his tone concerned.

"I was just so sure that Sam wasn't going to make it," Dean murmured, "And it would have been my fault."

Bobby grunted but said nothing against Dean continued feelings of guilt.

"Hope for the best but expect the worst," he told Dean instead, "That's what you Winchesters do best."

Lowering his hand and lifting his eyes, the young man looked to his friend, "How long do you think we'll have to stay here?"

Bobby shrugged, "Probably a day or two."

Dean sighed. He hated hospitals and he knew Sam did as well. Dean just prayed that the fever had not caused any lasting damage and he and Sam would be able to leave soon.

W

Two and a half hours later Dean looked up from the boat and fishing magazine he was reading when he heard the unmistakable squeak of a wheelchair approaching the room.

Dr. Munroe looked quite satisfied with herself and Sam gave his brother a tired smile upon seeing him.

"Some of the test results take time to come back but overall Sam did very well," the doctor informed them confidently, "It doesn't look like there is any damage from the fever at all."

Dr. Munroe parked the wheelchair beside the bed and helped Sam up. Once the youngest Winchester was settled in bed, the doctor left the room, taking the wheelchair with her.

Dean wanted to talk to his brother, ask Sam for himself if he was okay, but his sibling closed his eyes and was asleep within moments.

"C'mon son," Bobby touched Dean's shoulder, "I could use a coffee."

The older brother followed his friend down to the cafeteria, relaxed at last for the first time since he'd seen Sam sprawled out on the floor of the motel room, barely conscious and burning up with fever.

SPN

Sam was terrified. He sheltered in a far corner of his mind, trying to hide from the dark entity.

It knew where he was though, of course it did, the entity had reached its tentacles into every recess of Sam's mind, leaving nothing untouched.

Please help me, Dean.

Sam could feel the dark entity sifting through his mind, reading his memories and he was completely unable to do anything to stop it.

Get out! Dean! Dean! Where are you? Help me!

Sam's eyes were closed. He couldn't even see the room he was in. Sam knew that Dean was gone though, he couldn't hear him.

Sam wanted to cry, he wanted to scream but he could not open his mouth. He wanted to tell Dean about the dark entity but he couldn't even open his eyes.

Dean… please come back… please… help me. Stop this.

SPN

Dean sighed, swallowing a mouthful of hot, fresh coffee. He needed the caffeine.

"What's wrong?" Bobby asked, hands wrapped around his own cup of coffee.

"Just… glad that Sammy's going to be okay," Dean muttered, "I mean, so far Doc Munroe says he should be."

Bobby's expression softened but he didn't say anything.

"Okay, I'm ready to get back," Dean stood and stretched, grabbing his coffee off the table.

Bobby followed the younger man, knowing that he wouldn't be able to keep Dean from his brother for too long.

The two hunters rode the elevator up to Sam's floor and stepped off into the hallway. Dean wound his way through nurses and patients, completely intent on his destination. He pushed the door to his brother's room open and his shoulders sank even lower with relief. Sam was still alright. He was just sleeping. Dean could see his chest rise and fall with each breath.

Dean crossed the room and sat down on one of the chairs reserved for visitor's and, sitting his coffee aside, laid his hand on Sam's own.

Sam didn't stir but that was okay, Dean knew he was going to be alright.

Bobby sat down beside his young friend and took a sip of coffee.

"Everything will turn out," Bobby muttered, almost to softly to hear but Dean nodded.

"You'll be fine, Sammy," Dean murmured comfortingly to his sleeping sibling.

"I'll protect you."


	9. Chapter Nine

Dean felt as though a great weight was lifted from his shoulders when Dr. Munroe gave Sam a clean bill of health. He had been so worried- scared- that he was going to lose his brother but the tests had all come back negative so Dean couldn't help but be positive.

"Dean," Sam muttered from the wheelchair, "I can walk you know."

The older brother just grinned, "Yeah, I know. But it's hospital policy or something that you have to leave using the chair."

Sam though, was having none of it and set both feet down, halting the wheelchair's progress down the hall.

"Sit down," Dean ordered but his brother ignored him. Standing, Sam glanced over his shoulder, his expression one of displeasure, "I have been idle much too long."

"Sam," Dean let go of the chair's arms and followed his sibling as he continued on down the hallway, "Sammy."

Dean caught up to his brother and strolled along beside him, telling himself that he'd never let Sam push him in some wheelchair either if he could help it.

Sam smiled when he saw the Impala idling by the doors, Bobby behind the wheel. The grizzled hunter exited the driver's side and Dean walked around to meet him.

"Thanks for coming, Bobby," the younger hunter said quietly.

The older man rolled his eyes, "I wouldn't have had to if you two idjits could take care of yerselves."

Dean smiled somewhat guiltily and nodded, "Yeah, well, you still want us to follow you?"

"Of course," the veteran hunter commented, "Sitting in those damn uncomfortable hospital chairs with you fretting over Sam ain't much of a visit."

Dean nodded and sat down in the driver's seat, Bobby closing the door for him.

The eldest Winchester started the Impala's engine and cranked the music loud. Sam scowled at Dean but didn't say anything.

W

The drive to Singer Salvage was quiet. Dean kept peering at his brother from the corner of his eye, worried at Sam's silence.

Give him a break, Dean thought, he just got out of the hospital.

Dean parked behind Bobby's pickup and got out, stretching although it had only been a twenty-minute drive. The grizzled hunter's 'guard dog' came trotting up and Dean bent down to scratch the Rottweiler's ears.

"Hey Rummy," the young man muttered as the dog groaned in pleasure.

The animal's demeanor changed when Sam came around the front of the Impala. The Rottweiler's ears lay flat against his skull and he growled menacingly, baring sharp teeth.

Sam eyed the dog suspiciously and took a step back. The Rottweiler jerked forward as though about to attack, barking threateningly.

Bobby grabbed the dog's collar and heaved it back, "What's the matter with you? Stupid animal."

Rumsfeld strained against Bobby's hold, eyes locked on Sam.

Dean grabbed his brother's arm, "Let's go inside."

Turning away from Bobby and the pissed off dog, Dean cringed as the Rottweiler continued to snarl and bark.

Once inside, Dean sighed and Sam relaxed visibly.

"What's his problem, huh?" Dean muttered but Sam didn't reply. He didn't look happy; his shoulders were tense and his eyes narrowed.

Both brothers looked up when Bobby stepped inside, shaking his head.

"I put Rum out on his chain," the hunter told them, "Dunno what's got into him."

"Maybe he got bit by a rabid bat," Dean suggested jokingly.

Bobby didn't look impressed.

"What? It could happen," Dean protested, "I read it in a Stephen King book."

Bobby rolled his eyes and turned to look at Sam.

"I'm sure he'll calm down," he assured the young man and Sam nodded.

SPN

Sam was elated. Rummy knew something wasn't right! The dog must be able to sense the dark entity!

If only Bobby and Dean would catch on as well.

Think Dean! Please! You know dogs can sense monsters! Open your eyes!

The topic had moved on though, from Rumsfeld's odd behaviour to some research Bobby was doing on gremlins.

Bobby… Dean… Please…

The dark entity laughed at Sam's futile attempt to be heard. It knew that even if the two hunters did realize what was happening, they'd be too late.

SPN

"Sammy, you feeling okay?" Dean asked, "You're pretty quiet."

"I'm fine, Dean," the younger man replied, his voice slightly annoyed.

"You'd tell me if you weren't feeling well, right?" Dean continued, not wanting to end up taking another trip to the hospital.

"The doctor said I was healthy, Dean," Sam reminded him, "I'm just a little tired."

Dean nodded, "Okay. Well, why don't you take a nap or something?"

Sam almost smiled, "That sounds like a good idea."

Dean watched as his brother walked up the stairs and disappeared. Sighing, the eldest Winchester ran a hand through his short-cropped hair.

Bobby looked curiously at the younger man.

"He's just got over the flu, Dean," the veteran hunter reminded him, "Of course it'll take a few days for Sam to act like himself again."

Dean nodded, "You're right. It was just… when I saw him lying on the motel room floor… I was so scared…"

"Dr. Monroe wasn't concerned," Bobby continued, "If she was, he'd still be in the hospital."

Dean nodded in agreement. The doctor knew what she was talking about.

W

As the days passed, Sam's mood began to change and he started acting more like his usual self. He smiled more, made jokes and rolled his eyes in exasperation at Dean's pestering.

The only thing that didn't change though, was Rumsfeld's attitude towards the younger man. Bobby had tried to let the dog inside the house but the Rottweiler had instantly ran to where Sam was sitting on the couch, growling and snapping at the young man.

Dean had joked as Bobby dragged the dog back outside, asking his sibling as he laughed, "Who are you and what have you done with Sammy?"

Instead of playing along, Sam had frowned and narrowed his eyes at Dean, looking almost suspicious.

Dean had stopped chuckling and smiling, "Oh I didn't mean it, Sam. It was a joke. Lighten up."

W

Sam lifted his head weakly, hoping that Dean had realized that something was amiss.

He knew he didn't have long, the dark entity was draining his strength quickly and soon he would cease to exist. Sam felt tears well up into his eyes. He lay curled up in a far corner of his mind, desperate to escape the encroaching darkness that had swallowed up most of his mind.

The entity approached Sam, a perfect mirror image of the young man but for the tendrils of darkness wafting around it like smoke.

"Can you feel it?" the monster asked, "Your time has nearly come."

Sam shrank away, trying to get as far away from the threat as possible.

The dark entity smiled cruelly, "Yes, you will die and I will live."

Sam shook his head; he did not want to die. Not like this, trapped in his own body while some supernatural bastard pretended to be him.

Sam gasped as a black tentacle shot out from the monster and wrapped around his waist. He struggled weakly against it but then another tentacle wrapped around his throat.

"Please…" Sam begged, "Please…"


	10. Chapter Ten

It was purely by accident that Dean realized that something was not right with his brother.

After the failed attempt at letting Rumsfeld inside, Sam announced that he was tired and was going to take a nap.

Dean didn't think much of the comment, it had only been two days since Sam had been released from the hospital and was probably still recovering.

So he remained where he was, lounging on the couch, watching some old action movie.

He looked up when Bobby came into the living room and sat down in one of the wingback chairs, sighing.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do with that dog," the grizzled hunter muttered and Dean peered over at the older man.

"It is weird," Dean said, "Rummy used to love Sam."

"If my Daddy'd had a dog like that," Bobby continued, "He'd have taken it into the backyard and shot it."

Dean's eyes pinched slightly. He had a vivid memory of watching Old Yeller when he'd been young and bawling like a baby when the dog had to be put down in the end.

"Where's Sam?" Bobby asked as though he'd only just noticed the younger man's absence.

"Said he was tired," Dean told him, "Went upstairs to sleep."

The two men didn't say anything else but turned their attention to the television screen, watching the movie in silence.

W

Dean peered through the front window at the darkening sky and checked his watch. It was almost five and Sam was still upstairs. Bobby had moved into the kitchen and Dean could smell dinner cooking, his stomach growling in anticipation.

Standing up, Dean peered into the kitchen, "I'm going to go check on Sammy."

Bobby nodded, not even turning to look at the younger man, his attention focused on the chili he was making.

Dean sighed and headed upstairs, taking the steps two at a time because that chili smelled fantastic and he was starving.

Making his way down the hall to the guest bedroom he and Sam shared, Dean knocked lightly on the closed door.

"Sam?" Dean called, "You asleep?"

There was no response. Normally Dean would have just assumed Sam was sleeping and would leave but something told him he should check, maybe it was the fact that his brother had just gotten over a pretty serious fever or, as Dean would later claim, his 'big-brother' sense was tingling.

Dean pushed the door open and stared into the darkened room. He was surprised not to see Sam's form lying in bed but sitting up, back to him.

"Sam?" Dean said, louder than he'd spoken before, "Bobby's making dinner, you hungry?"

The younger man didn't say anything for a moment but when he did reply, his voice sounded strange, wet, as though he was talking through a mouthful of water.

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam assured his brother and Dean frowned because Sam didn't sound fine.

Without speaking, Dean flicked the light switch beside the door and the room was suddenly illuminated. Sam hunched over and made an unhappy hissing sound.

"Sam!" Dean cried loudly and marched around the bed, grabbing his brother's shoulder and turning his sibling to face him.

What stared back at him was not his brother.

Sure, Sam still looked like Sam but the black ichor streaming from his eyes and leaking from the corners of his mouth told Dean that something was horribly wrong.

Sam- or not Sam- opened his mouth and laughed, spraying Dean's shirtfront with black foul-smelling fluid.

"Yes, Dean?" Sam asked and then cackled.

Dean hauled back and punched his sibling in the face and Sam went out like a light, flopping bonelessly onto the bed.

W

"It's a spirit of some sort," Bobby said, his nose in a tome about the classification of ghosts.

"Thanks Bobby," Dean grumbled, "I got that when it sprayed me with its ectoplasm."

Dean was staring at his brother uneasily. He and Bobby had carried Sam downstairs into the panic room, tying him to a chair sitting underneath the Devil's Trap on the ceiling. Just in case.

Bobby swore and tossed the book he held aside.

"Maybe we'll just have to ask it ourselves," he scowled, "what the hell it is."

Dean frowned. He wanted to find out what was possessing his brother and get it the fuck out. He didn't want to chat.

Dean stepped forwards when he heard Sam groan and his brother lifted his head, blinking owlishly.

"Dean? Bobby?" Sam asked, his expression confused and scared, "Wh-why am I tied up?"

Sam tried to move his wrist but they were too tightly bound.

He looked up at Dean, pleadingly.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"You can stop while you're ahead," Dean snarled, "I know you're not Sam."

"Dean, please," the younger man begged, "What did I do?"

"What are you?" Dean asked, his voice calm and deadly.

"Nothing! I'm nothing! Dean! Please! Let me go!"

Dean unscrewed the cap from the flask he held and splashed holy water in Sam's face.

His brother spluttered and shook his head to try and get his wet bangs away from his face but otherwise didn't react.

"So, you're not a demon," Dean mused and rubbed his chin.

"Of course I'm not a demon," Sam cried, "I'm not anything!"

Dean peered suspiciously at his brother, "You know, you'd be a whole lot more convincing if you weren't dripping black shit everywhere."

Sam's expression changed; he no longer looked scared but haughty and cruel.

"You are too late," the thing possessing Sam said, "Your brother is dead."

Sam's head snapped back when Dean punched him. The creature spat blood and laughed.

"Your brother is no more," it taunted, "There is only me now."

"The hell are you?" Dean demanded to know.

Sam just shook his head and his nose started bleeding the same black liquid that continued to drip from his eyes and mouth.

"Tell me!" Dean snapped but the dark entity just continued to laugh.

Turning away from his brother, Dean looked to Bobby who had picked up another book and was frantically flipping through the pages.

"What is it, Bobby?" Dean asked, "Damn it!"

The grizzled hunter dropped the book at his feet and grabbed the last one he had brought downstairs.

Dean looked over his shoulder at his brother, black fluid dribbling down his face and cringed.

"I'll be damned," Bobby breathed and Dean turned to him, "What?"

The grizzled hunter tore the page from the book, letting the tome drop to the floor.

"It's a shade," Bobby told Dean and showed him the paper.

Dean peered down at the illustration- surrounded by Japanese characters- of a woman in a blue kimono with what looked like ink dripping from her eyes and mouth. Above the woman hovered her exact double, pale as smoke, with closed eyes and a wide mouth as though it was screaming.

"What does it say?" Dean asked, knowing that Bobby could read Japanese.

"What's got into Sam is a shade," the grizzled hunter told, "They're very rare, parasitic spirits."

"Parasitic?" Dean asked and Bobby nodded, "Regular ghosts just possess folks to help 'em do their dirty work, shades want more than just a puppet. They want to actually become that person."

That didn't sound good to Dean.

"How?" he asked, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

"They infect their victim and uh… suffocate… or drown- sorry, bad translation- the person in darkness-"

Before Bobby could continue, Dean held up his hand, "Is there a way to get rid of it?"

"There is," the older hunter told Dean, "A handy little potion."

"But?" the younger man prompted.

"I don't have all the ingredients."

"Shit!" Dean swore and ran a hand through his hair. He glared at his brother and the creature smiled, teeth black with ectoplasm.

"What do we need?" Dean asked, tearing his gaze away from Sam.

"White hellebore," Bobby said, "It's a purgative."

"Okay," Dean replied, thinking quickly, "Can you get this plant and I'll keep an eye on… Sammy, and mix the rest of the ingredients together."

Bobby looked slightly skeptical.

"You sure?"

Dean nodded, "I'll be fine."

"Okay," Bobby told him what else was needed for the potion and left, saying something about an herbalist friend of his in Canton who might have white hellebore.

Dean stared at his brother for a long moment. Although he didn't want to leave Sam alone, he didn't want to be with the shade possessing his brother for any longer than he had to.

Turning his back, Dean left the room without saying anything else, closing the heavy iron door, thinking only about preparing the potion so that it would be ready for Bobby's return.


	11. Chapter Eleven

The final stage of the possession was the most crucial; it was also the most dangerous. It was the time when the shade killed off the last vestiges of its host's being.

Knowing that the time was close at hand, the dark entity retired to the brothers' room, hoping for a few hours privacy so it could fulfill its task in peace.

Unfortunately, the host the shade had picked was a hunter and his brother was also. By the time that Dean had punched his sibling, Sam Winchester was barely alive, fading quickly. Even if the men found out what the dark entity really was, they would be too late to save the young man. He would be long gone and only the shade would remain. The cure, useless.

SPN

Dean stared at the bowl containing the ingredients Bobby had listed for him: holy water, salt, lamb's blood and charcoal. The only thing missing was the white hellebore.

Dean prayed that Bobby's friend in Canton had the plant they needed. If not, well, Dean wasn't sure what they'd do.

The eldest Winchester checked his watch, frowning. It only took about a half-hour to get to Canton. Bobby had been gone for ten minutes now.

This waiting was killing him.

SPN

Bobby stared down at the pretty little plant sitting beside him on the car's bench seat. It had dark green, spear-shaped leaves and five white, triangular petals.

It looked like something Karen would have grown in her garden.

The grizzled hunter fished his cell phone from the pocket of his vest and punched the Speed Dial button for Dean's number.

"Please say you have that plant," the young man greeted without preamble.

"Yeah," Bobby rumbled, "Iris said it should be enough."

"Iris?" Dean commented and Bobby sighed, "How's Sam doing?"

"Dunno, I'm upstairs," the younger hunter replied, "I couldn't stay down there with him like that."

Bobby nodded, "I'll be there as fast as I can. Traffic seems to be alright so far."

"Okay," Dean said, "We'll be here."

Bobby closed his phone and pressed his foot down on the accelerator, driving as far above the speed limit as he dared without risking getting over.

SPN

Dean stood silent with his hand on the handle of the panic room's door.

He didn't hear anything.

Worried that something had happened to his brother, Dean opened the door an inch and peered inside.

Sam- or the spirit possessing him- was still awake. It looked up when Dean opened the door and smiled.

You won't be smirking soon, you son of a bitch; Dean thought and closed the door.

Glancing at his watch again, Dean sighed, "Where the hell are you, Bobby?"

W

Dean went out to meet the veteran hunter just as Bobby was pulling into the driveway at the side of the house.

Moving quickly, Bobby grabbed the plant from the passenger's seat and climbed out of the car.

"You said a half-hour," Dean told him, close to panicking.

"There was an accident," Bobby grumbled, clearly irritated by the delay himself, "I couldn't get past until the ambulance came."

"Whatever, c'mon," Dean replied, running a hand through his short-cropped hair as he turned to the house.

"How's 'e doing?" Bobby asked as he followed the younger man inside.

"He was awake the last time I checked," Dean said nervously, "If that means anything."

"Where's the potion?" Bobby asked and Dean headed it into the kitchen, "I put it in the fridge to keep the blood cold. I don't want Sam getting sick from that… not after all this."

Bobby nodded and followed the younger man into the room. He grabbed the cutting board from where it sat on top of the microwave and fished a knife from the drawer.

Dean set the bowl down in front of Bobby and watched anxiously as the older ma began cutting the stems of the white hellebore, using the flat of the knife to crush them once he'd sliced them haphazardly.

Green juice oozed all over the wooden board and there was an unpleasant astringent scent in the air once Bobby was finished, tipping the final ingredient into the bowl and then stirring the concoction with a teaspoon.

"It's ready," Bobby announced and picked up the bowl.

Dean led the way down the stairs, trying not to run. He didn't know how much time Sam had left but he prayed that they weren't already too late to save him.

Dean flung the door to the panic room open so fast that it banged against the outside wall.

Sam looked up with a smug expression on his face. Dean noticed alarmingly that although there was dried ectoplasm coating Sam's face and neck, it seemed to have stopped leaking altogether.

The younger Winchester looked away from Dean, catching sight of Bobby with the potion.

"You are too late," the dark entity crowed, "He is gone. I'm your brother now."

"Shut up!" Dean snapped angrily but glanced worriedly at Bobby.

The grizzled hunter stepped towards Sam and the young man actually flinched backwards.

"Time to take your medicine," Dean said in a satisfied tone, glad that some of the smugness had left his brother's face.

"You are wasting your time," the spirit claimed, hands clenching into fists.

Dean just smiled, Sam's body language telling him everything he needed to know; the spirit knew it was done for.

"This ain't gonna be easy," Bobby warned, "He ain't gonna wanna drink it."

"That's fine," Dean assured him, "I know what to do."

Sorry about this, Sammy; Dean apologized silently to his brother before stepping up to his sibling, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back with one hand and pinching his nose closed with the other.

Sam thrashed his head from side to side, trying to dislodge Dean's grip but the older brother only tightened his hold.

The spirit rebelliously held Sam's mouth closed and Dean scowled.

Bobby looked to the older Winchester and raised an eyebrow.

Dean let go of Sam's nose and curled his hand into a fist, "You asked for it."

Bobby winched when Dean hit Sam in the solar plexus and the younger man gasped, the blow startling the spirit who had not been anticipating the pain or loss of breath.

Dean pulled Sam's head back while his brother gasped and Bobby made his move. The grizzled hunter tipped the bowl over Sam's mouth and the potion dribbled in.

Sam began thrashing violently, trying to spit out the potion but Dean refused to move until the bowl was empty.

Bobby backed away and Dean stepped to the side as Sam began coughing.

"Sammy?" Dean asked anxiously.

"Just wait," Bobby warned.

Sam's head was bowed, his hands clenching into fists when he suddenly threw up. Black vomit sprayed from his mouth onto his lap and the concrete floor in front of him.

"SAM!" Dean cried and made to rush forward but Bobby held a hand out to stop him, "It's working. He's supposed to be sick."

Sam threw up again and groaned miserably. Dean frowned, hoping that his brother was alright and they hadn't just made it worse.

"D'n," Sam moaned and vomited again, his body going limp as he lost consciousness.

Neither Dean nor Bobby moved for a long minute, both hunters holding their breath.

"Is it gone?" Dean asked, his voice sounding very loud in the quiet room.

"I think so," Bobby commented, pulling the page he'd torn out from the pocket of his vest and reading over it.

"Hm," he muttered, "It says that all that black should be gone from the sick before the spirit is destroyed."

Dean looked down at the upchuck coating Sam's jeans and the floor around him.

"What do we do if its not?" he asked, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Give 'im more potion," Bobby informed him.

SPN

Bobby stared worriedly at the younger Winchester. Sam was barely conscious, shaking his head slowly from side to side as Dean prepared to hold him still for the veteran hunter.

Bobby could see the toll this was taking on the older brother; Dean's face looked haggard with concern as he muttered apologies to his sibling.

"One more round should do it," Bobby promised the younger hunter and approached with yet another bowlful of potion.

Four rounds so far. But with each one, there seemed to be less and less black ichor tainting the young man's vomit.

Bobby wrinkled his nose, the smell of sick was thick in the small room and he couldn't wait to get the bleach out and clean the entire floor once all this was over and Sam was well again.

Sam groaned in protest as Bobby tipped the bowl. The young man's face was pale, his eyes half-closed and the older hunter hoped that the potion worked.

Stepping back, Bobby watched as the youngest Winchester threw up again, bile dripping down his chin.

"Is that it?" Dean asked, looking to Bobby for confirmation.

"Yeah," the grizzled hunter breathed, relief washing over him, "Looks like."

Dean smiled grimly.

"Let's get Sam comfortable an' cleaned up," Bobby suggested and Dean nodded.

SPN

Dean smiled tightly down at his brother. Sam was still unconscious and although Bobby wasn't concerned, Dean couldn't but be.

They had untied Sam from the chair and brought him over to the cot that sat on the far side of the room, not wanting to try and carry the young man up the basement stairs. Bobby had gone to the bathroom and brought down a bowl of warm water and a washcloth while Dean stayed with his brother.

W

Dean carefully wiped dried ectoplasm from Sam's face, watching intently for any sign that his brother was waking.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean whispered guiltily, "I should have been paying more attention."

The eldest Winchester shook his head, disgusted with himself. The signs had been there, he had just been too stupid to realize it.

"Dean," the young man looked up as Bobby stepped into the room, "I brought you some chili. You look like you could use it."

"Oh, uh, thanks Bobby, Dean muttered without taking his eyes from his brother.

The grizzled hunter set the bowl of chili down on the table that sat beside the cot.

"I'll bring down some water too," Bobby continued, "Sam's gonna be mighty thirsty when he wakes up."

"Sure," Dean replied, carefully wiping at a black spot of ectoplasm on Sam's upper lip.

"He'll be awake soon, son," Bobby spoke up, "He just needs some good old-fashioned rest right now."

Dean nodded but said nothing else.

Bobby left quietly.

"He better be right," Dean leaned towards his sibling, brushing Sam's bangs off his brow to feel his temperature, "'Cause there is no way I'm taking care of your comatose ass forever."

The older brother's lip trembled though and his hand immediately went to his sibling's neck, needing to feel the pulse thrum beneath his fingers.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Dean stared down at his unconscious sibling, wondering for the nth time if they were too late.

Sam was still alive; Dean checked almost every five minutes. His chest still rose and fell with each breath and his heart was beating silently, still pumping precious blood through his body. But he just wouldn't wake up.

Dean glanced up when he heard Bobby's footsteps on the concrete floor outside the panic room.

"Son, why don't you head on upstairs, get some rest," the grizzled hunter suggested, "I'll look after Sam. Call for you if he wakes up."

Dean shook his head, "I think I'll stay a little while longer."

Bobby remained where he was, silhouetted in the doorway before turning with a sigh and making his way back upstairs.

Dean peered at his brother's face, wishing Sam would open his eyes.

SPN

Bobby sighed and drained his glass of whisky, staring at the clock on the oven. It was nearly midnight and Dean still refused to leave his brother's side.

The grizzled hunter was beginning to worry. Maybe they were too late. Maybe they had succeeded in killing the shade but Sam really was gone, his body just a shell.

Bobby stood and moved to the counter to grab the bottle of whisky but decided against it. If Sam was in fact lost to them, Dean didn't need him two sheets to the wind.

SPN

Dean dug his knuckles into his eyes as they burned with exhaustion. He glanced at his wristwatch and saw that it was just past four in the morning.

Peering down at his brother, Dean felt hot moisture gush into his eyes but he quickly wiped it away.

"Sammy," Dean murmured, "C'mon man, wake up. Please."

Dean reached down and picked up one of Sam's limp hands, "Don't let me be too late to save you."

SPN

Bobby walked down the basement stairs slowly, two cups of coffee in his hands.

He peered into the Panic Room and saw Dean fast asleep, sitting in the folding chair beside the cot with his arms crossed over his chest and his head leaning back.

Sam was still unconscious, lying quite and still on the uncomfortable camp bed.

Bobby called Dean's name quietly and the younger man woke up, glancing around owlishly for a moment before peering down at his sibling and sighing.

"I thought you could use something to drink," the grizzled hunter said, holding one mug out to Dean.

The eldest Winchester wiped a hand over his face and nodded, taking the offered beverage.

Bobby took a drink of his own coffee, peering at Dean from over the rim of the cup. The young man was looking down at his sibling with red-rimmed eyes.

"Sam's a fighter," the grizzled hunter said, "He's just been through a hell of a lot an' needs to rest."

Dean looked up and nodded, his eyes glassy with exhaustion and unshed tears.

"Yeah," he muttered, "Yeah, you're right."

Bobby smiled grimly. He hoped to God he was right.

W

Bobby closed his eyes for a moment and squeezed the bridge of his nose, letting Rufus ramble away on the other end of the phone line.

"Listen Turner, I-" Bobby began but a cry from the direction of the basement had him stop mid-sentence.

"BOBBY! GET DOWN HERE!" Dean shouted, "NOW!"

Slamming the phone back in its cradle without saying another word, Bobby ran the stairs. What Bobby saw when he entered the Panic Room made his heart leap in his chest.

Sam was awake!

He was leaning over the side of the cot, Dean gripping his shoulders to keep him upright.

"Sam?" Dean spoke his brother's name worriedly, "Sammy? What's wrong?"

Bobby watched as the young man shuddered and threw up bile.

"Balls," the grizzled hunter swore and moved forward, pressing a palm to Sam's brow.

The boy was burning up with fever.

"Don't feel good," Sam whimpered and edged closer to his brother.

Dean looked up at Bobby questioningly.

"What's wrong? I thought that fever was the shade," he said, eyebrows knitting together.

Bobby shrugged, "Could be the spirit was keepin' the fever at bay while it possessed Sam or it got to 'im after he got sick."

Dean glanced down at Sam as though expecting his brother to answer, tell him exactly what had happened but the younger man only groaned miserably.

"Let's get him upstairs," Bobby suggested, "He'll be more comfortable there."

Dean nodded and tightened his grip on Sam's shoulders, "C'mon Sammy, stand up."

Sam struggled to get his feet under him. Finally he managed to stand; swaying, head lowered but at least he was up.

It was agonizingly slow going but the trio eventually made it to the top of the stairs. Sam staggered towards the couch almost blindly, sinking onto its cushions heavily.

"Mm cold D'n," Sam muttered and wrapped his arms around himself as he fell onto his side, his head resting on one armrest while his feet pressed against the other, knees bent.

"I think I've got some Tylenol upstairs in the bathroom cabinet," Bobby said and headed in that direction.

Dean crouched beside his sibling.

"Man, Sam, you can't wait to get over one thing before coming down with something else, can you?"

Sam didn't answer, his eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping.

At least this is just a flu bug, Dean thought thankfully, I can deal with that.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Sam slept for a solid three hours before waking up. Dean hadn't left his side in all that time. He watched over his sibling, sitting in one of Bobby's wingback chairs with his elbows resting on his knees.

"D'n," Sam whimpered and the young man was instantly at his brother's side, crouched down beside the couch.

"I'm right here, Sammy," he murmured and pressed a cool hand to his brother's brow. He still had a fever but it didn't seem to have gotten any worse.

"M'thirsty," Sam said hoarsely and Dean nodded. After puking up all that black shit and having a fever on top of it, Sam must be dehydrated as hell.

"Okay, Sammy," Dean said and stood up, "I'll go see what Bobby's got."

Dean walked into the kitchen and saw the grizzled hunter sitting at the table, reading a newspaper and drinking coffee.

"He any better?" Bobby asked, setting the paper down.

Dean shrugged, "Fever's about the same."

Bobby nodded, "Keep an eye on that. Don't want it to send him to the hospital again."

Dean nodded and opened the refrigerator door, thinking back to just a couple of days ago when Sam had had that seizure in the Impala.

Dean pushed that memory from his mind and grabbed the carton of apple juice.

"If ya need anything for Sam," Bobby told Dean as he watched him pour a small amount into a glass, "Let me know an' I'll make a trip into town."

Dean eyed the measurement of juice and picked up the cup, "I think we're okay for now."

Taking both the cup and carton into the living room, Dean saw that Sam had managed to sit up, listing heavily against one of the couch arms.

Dean sat the carton on the coffee table and handed the cup to his brother.

Sam stared glassy-eyed at the yellow liquid but didn't drink.

"I know you don't like apple juice," Dean said, "But its that or beer, and I am not giving you alcohol. You'd be plastered before you finished the first bottle."

Sam lifted the glass to his mouth and drank greedily. He might not have been a fan of that juice but his thirst won out.

"Can I have some more?" Sam asked and Dean nodded.

W

Dean leaned against the counter after putting the juice away and the cup into the sink.

"You okay?" Bobby asked the younger hunter.

"Uh, yeah," Dean answered distractedly.

Bobby didn't look convinced.

"I'm just worried about Sam," Dean explained, "I know the fever's not bad but it can't be good for him to be sick like this after everything that's happened to him the past few days."

"Just keep an eye on him," Bobby said, "That's all you can do."

Dean nodded and wiped a hand across his mouth.

"Yeah, you're right," he muttered.

Bobby smirked, "Course I am."

SPN

Sam fidgeted on the narrow confines of the couch. He couldn't get comfortable. Sweat beaded on his brow even as he shivered. He wanted a blanket but he already had three on top of him.

"Sammy, c'mon man, relax," Dean said and Sam startled when he felt his brother's hand on his shoulder.

"C-Cold, D'n," Sam muttered and peered pleadingly up at his brother.

"I know Sammy," Dean answered, pulling the blankets further up so that they touched Sam's chin, "But I can't give you anymore Tylenol yet. I don't want you to overdose on the stuff."

Sam nodded sadly.

"Are you thirsty?" Dean asked and Sam shook his head.

"Try and get some rest, Sammy," Dean told him and Sam closed his eyes, trying to ignore the chills wracking his body and sleep.

SPN

Dean was contemplating taking Sam to the hospital. The fever hadn't gone up but it hadn't broken either by the time evening closed in.

Bobby advised against putting Sam through a trip to the Emergency room again, "All they'll do is the same as what we're doing here. Get him into a bed and give him fluids and meds."

"Okay, okay," Dean acquiesced, "But if he has a fit, I don't care what you say."

Bobby held his hands up, "Fair enough."

W

"Dean?"

The young man jumped when he was startled awake in the middle of the night by his name being called.

"Sammy? What's wrong?" he sat up stiffly from the wingback chair and crouched down beside his brother.

"Close your eyes a minute," he told Sam and turned on the lamp sitting on the end table beside the couch.

Golden light flooded the couch and Dean saw that Sam looked a hell of a lot better than he had earlier.

His face was no longer slick with sweat and although he was still pale, the red spots on his cheeks that indicated fever were gone.

"How're you feeling?" Dean asked, resisting the urge to immediately check his sibling's temperature.

"Better," Sam said roughly, rubbing his throat.

Dean smiled, "You want some apple juice?"

W

"How long was I sick for?" Sam asked, earning confused looks from Bobby and his brother.

"Uh… a few days," Dean answered, "Hey, what do you remember?"

Bobby opened his mouth to speak but Dean kicked him underneath the table.

"I remember that diner where you and that spray-tanned waitress were ogling each other," Sam said.

Dean frowned, that was just before Sam had become sick.

"And?" he asked.

Sam shrugged, "Waking up on Bobby's couch."

Dean stared at his brother, "That's it? Nothing else?"

Now it was Sam's turn to look confused, "No, why? Did something happen?"

"No," Dean answered quickly, "Of course not. You were just sick as a dog for the past few days. I just wanted to know if you remembered anything but you must have been pretty out of it."

Sam nodded, clearly not completely convinced with his brother's explanation but saying nothing against it.

W

"That's not strange at all," Dean said to Bobby once Sam had left to go upstairs and take a nap; he may have been feeling better but he still wasn't a hundred percent.

Bobby shrugged, "Maybe it was the flu."

"Yeah," Dean said but glanced up at the ceiling, frowning, "Being that sick can really fry your brain."

SPN

The shade peered into the bathroom mirror and smiled. It had been close but the hunters had been too late after all. Sam Winchester no longer existed. There was only the shade now.

A knock on the door turned the monster's attention away from its reflection.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean's voice asked from the other side of the door.

"Yeah," the shade replied.

"I'm glad you're okay," the hunter said and the monster smiled even wider, "So am I."

**Author's Note:**

> Fanfic title comes from a Screaming Trees song.


End file.
